Forever United
by Abarero
Summary: A collection of short ficlets and drabbles for America/England. 5th Story Up: Roses
1. Prompt: Teddy Bear

This is my short fic/drabble collection for America/England. Enjoy!

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**Prompt:** Teddy Bear

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He hated to admit that he wasn't surprised, nay, in fact he was basically expecting it. It was, after all, his choice of a movie that they'd watched that evening. And anything with ghosts, even a non-horror movie, tended to get to America.

"England...can I stay here tonight?"

And even though he was over two hundred years old, he managed to put on a pout that took England back to memories of him as a young colony.

Huffing in feigned irritation, England rolled over on the mattress to face away from the blue puppy dog eyes that were nagging him. "It wasn't even a scary movie, America. Bloody hell, can we not watch _anything_ without you using it as an excuse to crawl into my bed? Get yourself a teddy bear or something. It is named after your former boss."

America shrugged, holding up his dangling left arm to reveal a large brown bear clutched in his hand. "I already have one."

England groaned in frustration. "Then get another and let me sleep."

He listened for the sound of America retreating out the door, but it never came. Instead, a very timid question was asked.

"Would a bigger teddy bear help?"

Rolling his eyes, England sighed. "Sure. Whatever you think best."

The sound of America's footsteps on the floor reached England's ears, and he was about to attempt to sleep again, when his mattress sunk under sudden weight and warm arms encircled his waist.

"A-America, what in the blazes are you...." England froze as a warm breath tickled his neck, his face flushing scarlet.

"Got myself a bigger teddy bear." He pressed a sloppy kiss to England's cheek before nuzzling into his back. "Yep, I think this will help lots."

And knowing that it was no use trying to push the stronger country away, England settled himself in America's arms, putting aside the actual teddy bear on the nightstand. After all, America wouldn't need both.


	2. Prompt: Shoujo Sparkles

**Prompt: Shoujo Sparkles**

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It was like those- what did Japan call them? Shoujo? Yeah that was it, shoujo - comics that Japan had loaned America from time to time. He remembered it clearly, the way the girl character would look at the "man of her dreams" and he'd be surrounded by sparkling orbs, as if he was a vision.

That was how England, at that very moment, looked to America. He blushed slightly at the implications that held, but didn't let his gaze waver. He was just _observing_, not staring. It was completely different.

Before him, England was relaxing in a chair on the lawn; a teacup precariously perched in one hand and a book in his other. He'd glanced up for a moment and seemed to be gazing at one of the many shimmering spheres that were currently hovering around him like a special effect gone awry.

"E-En-ngland?" He called out; regretting it the moment he did. It was very unheroic to stutter like a timid girl.

But when England looked up, his green eyes focusing just so on America's blue ones, America felt his heart skip a beat. He shook his head furiously, suddenly realizing how this was playing out a little _too much_ like Japan's comics. He could see it now- how he'd have a small sound effect by him at that very moment going _doki doki~_. Great, he was a shoujo heroine and England was the man of his dreams.

America was mortified and he was sure his face showed it. With a furious blush, he jerked his head away and crossed his arms.

"America?" England queried. "What's wrong?"

He chanced a glance back, noticing that England was standing now and that the orbs had risen to hover around him.

"S-Something's wrong with my glasses. I'm seeing..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He finally choked out. "There's _shoujo sparkles_ around you, England."

The other country blinked, glancing up around him and then back to America.

"You see what?"

"Like in Japan's comics? You know? The sparkles?" America rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ehe, never mind. It's not important."

And as America wandered off, vehemently hoping he wasn't about to turn into some sort of magical girl, England addressed the orbs around him.

"What's his problem?"

The little faeries giggled.

The pink one spoke first. "He was staring at you."

"H-he was?" England asked, eyes wide.

"Like a love sick puppy." The green one noted.

"A love sick puppy!" The blue one echoed, her trilling laugh piercing the air.

England blushed and hurried after America, leaving the floating wall of "shoujo sparkles" to laugh at the two love sick countries some more.


	3. Prompt: Cooking Together

**Prompt:** Cooking Together

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It was amazing how quickly any activity between them ended up going wrong. Cooking, of course, was no exception to this. Usually, America would quietly come up behind England while he was at the stove; seizing him around the waist and causing England to blush and yell and burn the food even more than he already was.

But decorating sugar cookies, something even children managed without too large a mess, was the one baking choice that had turned their kitchen into a war zone.

America was currently crouched behind the island, warily glancing out around the left side for any sign of where England was. He was armed well; one pastry bag filled with bright blue frosting and a tub of white frosting with a spoon. His face bore the marks of their battle so far; streaks of red, white and blue frosting all over his face and what looked like a half-written "Idiot" across his forehead. America crept forward quietly with his pastry bag ready to frost England the moment he came into view. It was only too late that he heard the footsteps behind him.

"Gotcha!" England yelled. A glob of red frosting was smeared across America's glasses and effectively impaired his vision. Blinded but not about to give up, the younger country pulled off his glasses and retaliated.

"Oh no you don't!" He held up the pastry bag and drew a thick line of blue across England's eyebrows. America laughed. "And here I thought those couldn't look any bigger!"

"Oi, shut it!" He retorted, yanking the pastry bag out of America's hand and throwing it to the ground. England quickly shoved America over and straddled his waist to pin him down. "Now where was I on labeling your forehead?"

As he moved to finish off the "Idiot" written there, America leaned up and kissed him. They both tasted like burnt sugar cookies and frosting; and the two of them wrestled for the pastry bag England held as they continued to kiss.

A commanding voice spoke up. "I hope you plan on cleaning up this mess."

America and England pulled apart like two teenagers caught by their parents, both of them blushing under their frosting war paint. England stood up, brushed himself off and then helped America to his feet.

The waylaid pastry bag with blue frosting had gotten under America's back, his weight shooting out its contents all over the kitchen wall. He looked up at man in the doorway with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, Mr. Chief of Staff." He shuffled his feet nervously. "We'll clean it up right away."

The silver-haired man sighed. "And the President would like to see both of you when you're done with that, so you might want to clean yourselves up."

England blanched. "I'm so sorry, sir. This will never happen again."

He laughed, picking up a finished cookie that wasn't too burnt and taking a bite out of it. "I may not have been here long, England, but I have a feeling this or something similar will probably happen again. Considering the stories I've heard about you two. Not bad cookies, by the way."

And leaving them both a bit speechless, the Chief of Staff strode from the room. Warily, they looked around at the mess and then to each other.

"At least we didn't get it _everywhere_?" America offered.

England shoved him in the arm. "Oh hush up and start cleaning."

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	4. Prompt: post Battle of Britain

**Title:** One Friend to Count On  
**Prompt:** Post-Battle of Britain

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If he weren't so exhausted, England was certain he'd be more shocked, or angry, or perhaps even pleased.

But after it was all over, when he saw that one of planes had gaudy red, white and blue nose art with the word "HERO" plastered across it, England knew immediately who the pilot was. It figured that of the American pilots that pretended to fight under other nationalities, only one would be so obviously and blatantly American.

"Bloody tosser," he swore as the smugly grinning blonde swaggered over to him.

"Hmm, so there were _how_ many awesome American pilots and they kicked _how_ much ass?" The younger country asked, confidence oozing from him.

"_All_ the pilots fought bravely and-" England cut himself off as the blonde in front of him pulled off his aviator cap and shook his hair loose. It stuck up now at odd angles as he pushed a hand through it. "I thought you weren't going to help."

America grinned wider, but there was a tentative edge to it now. "I'm a hero, it's my job to help! So even if it's a stodgy old empire who needs a helping hand, there will always be a few brave Americans who, even if they have to pretend to be-"

He trailed off as England stepped towards him, a slight limp to his walk.

"England…what- your leg…"

England winced, but his determination didn't waver as he walked right up to the other country.

"It's a bad war, America. But we _aren't_ weak and we _aren't_ going to lose. Germany won't beat us." He said it with such a steadfast and assured expression that America faltered for a moment.

"Look England, about those destroyers…"

"My country will fight this war with or without you, America." England took another step forward, his gleaming green eyes never once leaving America's blue ones. "We won't fall. We will stand fast and strong like we always have."

He stumbled on his last word, America reaching out to steady him. His smile softened as his hand still gripped England's arm.

"I'd never imply someone as old and courageous and stupidly stubborn as you couldn't hold your own, England."

"Good." He leveled America with a look. "Then I want one thing of you, America."

America nodded. "Go on, I'm listening."

"Right now, _especially right now_, there is one thing I'd like most." England averted his eyes, his face flushing. "Because it'd be nice amidst all this chaos to know I had one friend to count on."

"England, my boss wants…"

The green eyes were back, a firm gaze holding America's own and challenging him. "I'm asking _you_, America. No one else. You fought under pretense of not even being from America; obviously you don't always do just what your boss wants."

America hesitated before finally taking England's hand in his own. "O-Okay. But you'll owe me."

England smiled tentatively. "You're such a spoiled brat."

"Well…" America grinned. "Who do we have to blame for that?"

"Oh shut up," England countered, but he was still smiling.

And as America guided England to a chair in the hangar and began fussing over his leg, England thought perhaps things might work out after all. Because even if it was a small start, he knew America wouldn't let his boss or his people ignore his "friend" who "lived" in England during these dark times.

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Notes:  
[1] The Battle of Britain was the first major campaign to be fought entirely by air forces. It was the largest and most sustained bombing campaign up until that date.  
[2] There were only seven Americans who volunteered during this battle, all who lied about their nationalities to get around the various US Neutrality Acts.  
[3] The Destroyers for Bases Agreement on September 2, 1940, transferred fifty destroyers from the United States Navy in exchange for land rights on British possessions.


	5. Prompt: Roses

**Prompt: **Roses

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"For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all."

It was absolutely, positively, one of the most embarrassing things England had ever lived through. His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew, quite well, that his face simply had to be scarlet.

Holding a shaky hand to his cheek, he could feel the heat emanating off and swallowed hard. This was no time to be acting like a schoolgirl; he did have his gentleman's image to uphold.

"I-If you would p-pardon us, your Majesty."

The Queen inclined her head, a smile quirking at her lips as she watched her country grab the other nation and drag him bodily from the room.

England closed the door quietly, as not to disturb her Majesty any further, and walked briskly down the hallway. Stopping at a good distance away from the door, he paused to take a few deep breaths and calm his nerves.

"What...the bloody hell...were you thinking?" He said amidst gasps. "The Queen and I were having our afternoon tea and you barge in to...to..."

His face flushed again as his eyes darted down to the bouquet of flowers that had started it all. They were red roses- his favorite.

"I'm sorry," the small voice interrupted his thoughts. "I wanted to surprise you."

He sounded so genuine, so apologetic, that England couldn't muster any ill will against him.

"A-America..." The Briton hung his head, his emotions starting to get the best of him.

"Huh?" He blinked.

"Oh blast it all!" England snapped at him, his eyes flickering up to meet America's. "You come waltzing in here- today of all days! - with _flowers_ and start butchering the Bard with your practiced speech and...and..."

America smiled, reaching out a hand to brush a tear off England's cheek. "You're crying. Please tell me my Shakespeare wasn't that bad. I did practice..."

England chuckled, rubbing his eyes quickly with his sleeve before closing the space between them. Clutching his arms around America, he buried his face in his chest. "It was horrid," he remarked, smiling. "Worst Valentine's gift ever And in front of the Queen, no less!"

Threading one hand into England's hair, America gently held the bouquet against England's back. He smiled. "Looks like I'll have to do it again next year since you hated it so much."

England leaned up, kissing him fiercely. He pulled away and gave him a stern look. "Next year, not in front of the _Queen_."

America started to laugh, pecking a kiss on England's nose as he crossed his arms and tried to look angry. "Okay. I promise. Next year I'll make sure it's in front of your boss."


End file.
